


Terms of Endearment

by ckret2



Series: Alastor Week [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Awkward Conversations, F/M, Love Confessions, One-Sided Attraction, Rejection, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: Mimzy has offered Alastor a confession.Alastor doesn't know what to do with this, and would rather like to put it back where it came from and forget it ever happened.
Relationships: Alastor & Mimzy (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Rosie (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Mimzy (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Alastor Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863841
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	Terms of Endearment

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of [Alastor Week](https://twitter.com/SchwiftyChicka/status/1275649386781999107?s=20): " **Darling** /Dad jokes"!
> 
> "I'm gonna kick myself later if I try to write Mimzy and Rosie before we see their characterizations in canon," I say as I write Mimzy and Rosie.
> 
> What's up my dudes it's time for another round of "let's project acearo feels on Alastor," this week's edition is "every single time someone's confessed their feelings for me even before I knew I was acearo my first instinct has been to say 'I'm sorry' which tbh is a really weird reaction to have."

Mimzy was sobbing so loud and so hard Alastor was worried someone on the street would hear and come check the alley beside the jazz club and catch the two of them sitting on the kitchen doorsteps. Wasn't much he could do about it but run them off, if so. He had to keep the majority of his focus on trying to comfort Mimzy. Which was difficult when he was the reason she was crying.

Alastor didn't want to be here. He could still hear the muffled sounds of the band playing inside, the blaring of the trumpet as its musician blew so hard it almost stopped sounding like music; he wanted to be in there with them, pounding along on the piano again, or on his sax battling the trumpeter for the right to a solo.

He wanted to be just about anywhere in Hell but sitting next to Mimzy.

After a couple minutes of being not sure what to do but sit there and twiddle his thumbs, he awkwardly patted her back. To his mortification, she leaned against him and flung her arms around his waist. At least he was doing something right.

"I just—" Mimzy hiccuped a sob and croaked, "I—I'm sorry, Al, I just... I... read too far into things."

She certainly had, but now wasn't the time to rub it in. She was already brokenhearted and Alastor actually liked her. "Come now, don't be so down on yourself. You're not the only gal who's ever jumped to conclusions." He tapped a knuckle under her chin, trying to encourage her to lift her head. "No harm done, darling. Don't strain your pretty singing voice over me. Any guy that won't have you isn't worth your tears, myself included."

Mimzy pulled back from Alastor. "You see?! That's it, that's the _problem!_ You're always so _sweet_ to me! And—and you've always acted like a gentleman! You've _never_ tried to take advantage of me..."

Well, that should have been Mimzy's first clue that Alastor didn't have any interest, shouldn't it? She'd been around him enough to know that when he took an interest in something, nothing stopped him from taking it. Dryly, he asked, "You fell for me because I treated you with basic common courtesy?"

"No!" Mimzy smacked him across the stomach with the back of her hand, just hard enough to make him flinch in surprise. "I fell for you because you used to play the trumpet horribly at six in the morning."

She still remembered that? That had been over twenty years ago, back when they were both still alive. They hadn't even met each other yet—their correspondence had consisted of gossiping about each other from sixteen hundred miles apart. "Give me some credit. In the twenties, I played the trumpet horribly at _any_ time of day."

She choked on a laugh and smacked him again, more gently. "No, the way you treat me is the reason I thought _you_ fell for _me!_ That, and all that—that 'darling' and 'my dear' and 'sweetheart.' I—I thought it _meant_ something." And now she was crying again.

Alastor's dead heart sank. Oh. He dropped his hands to the concrete doorstep he was sitting on, fingers curling over the edge. Running his gloves' thumb pads along the edge of the step, he contemplated damage control. "You _do_ remember that I'm a southerner?" he pointed out. "That's how we talk." This was far from the first time that had gotten him into trouble. Once he'd almost gotten kicked out of a speakeasy in Harlem for absentmindedly calling someone "sweetie" and nearly getting into a brawl with her boyfriend. That had certainly never happened in New Orleans.

But he'd thought that Mimzy, of all people, knew him well enough to tell friendliness from flirting.

"It's the _way_ you say it! I—" She shook her head, sniffling. Alastor wished he had a handkerchief to offer her. "Never mind. I guess I really did read too far into it."

What did Alastor say now? Yes, she _had_ read too far into it. And he didn't think that was his fault—except that this kept happening to him, and at some point he had to start wondering. So what did he say—did he say "cut it out"? Was he supposed to apologize? Was he supposed to say sorry for breaking her heart? Was he supposed to say sorry for _not being interested_ in someone whose interest he'd never wanted in the first place? _So sorry that when you inconvenienced me with your affection I didn't conform to the fantasies you'd been projecting on me_ —

Alastor pulled the emergency brakes on that train of thought. He was making himself angry. Mimzy was his friend, he reminded himself. Alastor _liked_ his friends. That was what friends were for. Besides, Mimzy hadn't asked for an apology. She was upset, that was all. Alastor would probably be upset too, if... hm... well... no, he rummaged around inside his past experiences and couldn't find a way to empathize. But he could still be compassionate, he could manage that much. Mimzy was upset, and Alastor... Alastor was just the person sitting at the center of her hurt, as helplessly incapable of extricating himself from her heart as she of evicting him, and he didn't like that.

So he said, "You'll get over it," and only realized when she started crying harder again that the words sounded like a dismissal instead of a reassurance.

###

"Well, Mr. Alastor, it seems you've found yourself in quite the pickle this time!" Rosie, with one hand hooked around Alastor's elbow, squeezed his bicep reassuringly.

Alastor rolled his eyes, staring up at the sun through the fabric of the parasol he was holding for Rosie. "It seems I have."

In the time it had taken Alastor to regale Rosie with his woes—complete with all the moments he'd retroactively identified as potential warning signs and his dread about how she might react to his incompetent handling of the situation—they'd looped the pond they'd chosen for their stroll three times, and the banks were now completely barren of any more demons to flee in terror at the sight of the Radio Demon's approach.

"So what's the plan?" Rosie asked. "If you're afraid she's going to give you more trouble in the future, I've got a delicious pot roast recipe." She flashed Alastor a winning, fangy grin.

Alastor's invisible studio audience laughed. "No, no! I'm sure she'd be delicious, but I like her better in one piece," he said. He cleared his throat with the noise of a radio changing stations. "That's my biggest concern, really—that turning her down as a girlfriend might mean losing her as a friend. Down here, I'm afraid I don't have a lot of friends to spare!" He looked forlornly around the pond, now devoid of any visitors but them.

Rosie reached over with her other hand to pat Alastor's forearm. "That just means the ones you have must really like you, and that's never a bad thing."

"I wouldn't mind if a few of them liked me a little less." Alastor glanced at Rosie's hands, then warily at her face. "I don't have to worry about _you_ , do I?"

"Oh!" Rosie put a hand on her chest and laughed. "I should say not! You're a charming man, my dear, but I see you more like a son than anything else."

Alastor sighed static in relief. "You're a little too white to stand in for my mother," said Alastor, as if there weren't a hundred other differences—starting with the cannibalism and ending with the fact that if there was any justice in the universe his mother would never end up within a thousand miles of Hell's gates—"but I've got an opening for an aunt on my father's side."

"Aunt suits me just fine."

They made another half circle of the pond—Alastor filled the silence with a recording of an old show tune—before he spoke again. "As long as I've known you, you've been in the business of fixing up other people's relationship problems for them. Have any advice?"

"Oh, I think your little problem will clear itself right up," Rosie reassured him. "Just give her a little time and a little distance, check in on her every once in a while to make sure she knows you're not trying to cut ties, and she'll either get over you or she won't. It's entirely in her hands."

Alastor was afraid of that. He didn't like that helplessness. He wanted to fix this. He wanted to make it go away. But he supposed there was no way to force her to fall out of love without making her hate him, was there?

Thoughtfully, Rosie said, "Although I wonder if I can't scare up a nice young suitor to take her mind off her sorrows."

Alastor perked up. "If you need a matchmaking partner in crime..."

Rosie smirked. "I know where to call you up."

They strolled another slow lap around the pond.

**Author's Note:**

> Post for this fic available on [tumblr](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/625576362259988480/terms-of-endearment) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/ckret2/status/1290843596451708933?s=20). If you enjoyed the fic, comments/reblogs there are highly appreciated (as are comments here)!


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